


Funny Guys

by AeeDee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Drabble, Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Sentimental, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick admits that he's not -always- funny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funny Guys

**Author's Note:**

> A friend asked me to write Dick & Babs, a pairing I have never written properly. As usual I operate outside of DC's established canon, because I can't keep up with their tomfoolery.

Crisp night in the middle of October and they’re sitting on the edge of a hill, overlooking a city that’s starting to come alive, lights turning on. The moon’s hovering above and drifting as he stares into the distance and laughs quietly. “Really, what a bummer.”

“It’ll be fine,” she looks at him, smirking and frowning with amusement from behind sharp-framed glasses, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’ll get over it.”

“Yeah,” and he almost sighs, “but I won’t.”

She laughs, the kind of laugh with teeth closed shut and lips parted, a hollow and quiet sound.

“Years down the road, he’s still gonna...” and he trails off dramatically.

“He’s gonna remember that one bad joke,” she mimics his tone playfully.

“Yeah,” a more audible sigh. His voice turns whimsical, drifting smooth and high, “No big deal, just a really awful joke. From a supposed ‘funny guy’,” and he gives her a sideways look.

“Could be worse,” she shrugs.

“I don’t know.” He pauses, as if turning the words over. Scratches his face idly and says in a mocking tone, “Funny guys, they all think they’re _so_ hilarious.”

“Aw,” she says with feigned pity.

“It just really wasn’t funny.” He almost seems like he’s going to change the subject, before sliding back into it. “You can tell, you can tell.” He gives her an intent look. “He reached the point… it was pity laughter.”

“No,” she turns her head away from him, but her mouth is extended into a wide grin.

“Like when you hear that awkward silence and then,” a brief and thoughtful pause, “ _oh ha ha,_ and he was the only person kind enough to laugh.”

“You tried,” she shrugs.

“And failed spectacularly.”

“As only you can,” she smirks.

“That’s not nice,” but he’s grinning back. 

There’s a moment of silence—the kind where you can hear trees rustling in the distance, and faint voices of strangers somewhere down the street, words undefined—but it’s not unsettling. His chest rattles with a silent laugh and he murmurs, “I don’t know. I think he’s gonna call it off.”

“Please,” and she’s rolling her eyes.

“He’s gonna be all, ‘I can’t let my daughter marry someone that unfunny,’” and he shakes his head.

“Sure.”

“Can’t do it,” he says.

She elbows him in the side; gently.

“ _Just imagine,_ what awful joke he’ll have for the wedding.”

She adjusts her glasses and cringes, “Oh, no.”

“I’d better start thinking,” and he’s grinning from ear to ear. “I need ta- I need to find a good one.”

“There’s more to life than being funny,” she reminds him, with a subtle wink, “There’s more to _you_.”

“Yeah,” he says, almost with a hint of seriousness. His face is calm—almost unsettingly—and he chews on his lip for a second before he comments further. “But I’m not sure how much.”

“Plenty,” she says.

He shrugs. “Let’s hope so.” He grins, “For your sake.”

“You don’t trust my judgment,” she says.

“Babe,” he almost purrs. “That’s the only reason I’m here.” He reclines back, resting on his arms, body sprawling out over the grass. “Wasn’t for you I’d probably just…”

“Hmm,” she questions. Quietly encouraging him to continue.

“Don’t know who else would put up with me,” he says.

“That’s absurd,” she’s quick to say.

He shrugs. “It’s the truth.” He clarifies. “I like myself plenty, you know.”

She laughs, faintly. “I can tell.”

“…But there’s a lot of things about me, that,” and his eyes are wandering into the distance, towards the glittering city, into the night sky full of stars slowly emerging. “A lot of things I don’t understand.”

“Hmm,” she acknowledges.

“But I wanna believe they have value.” He nods. 

“A lot more to you than just bad jokes,” she says. Leans towards him slightly, her long hair tumbling forward, strands falling down her back, “You don’t need them to impress anybody.” And she stares, and the way she looks at him, it makes him remember so many things—why he loves her, for one—“unless you just… like them, for some reason.” A playful smirk and she almost laughs when he looks her up and down and frowns.

“Hey,” he says, “Don’t act like I’m not funny.”

“I’m not,” she whines, and it’s almost childish—so cute, she’s so cute. 

“You like my jokes,” he pouts.

“But I like the rest of you, too.”

Another silence, this one’s more comfortable and he’s moving closer to her, because there was just too much space before. He’s leaning towards her and he kisses her arm because it’s closest to him; grins when she laughs faintly, quietly at that gesture. 

“You dork,” she says.

“Yeah,” he says. “And you’re stuck with me.”

“Woe is me,” she says.

“Never was a story of more woe…”

“Oh, shush.”


End file.
